


The Legacy of Dathomir

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: In a galaxy where Asajj Ventress and Maul finally get to compare their experiences, it turns out they've led rather similar lives.
Kudos: 14





	The Legacy of Dathomir

Above, skies stretched out in dark, unending gray. Below, the rocks matched the gray, stretching in broken plateaus and divided by stretches of forest. The world was inert and lifeless. Dead--though it had never been fully alive in the first place.

Asajj had closed her eyes to meditate, though she could see the world just as well as if she had kept them open. This planet intrigued her, particularly because of its lack of affinity for the Force, but also because it reflected her deepest needs. It matched her well, and threw back only her own impressions and understanding. This planet was not a place to learn. It was simply a place to die.

Dramatic, yes. She had lived a dramatic life. And this, perhaps, was one of the reasons she could never commit truly to a path of self-destruction. After so many other forces had sought to destroy her, she could not bring herself to join that number. She was a survivor, and would survive even this. For what end, she could not bear to consider.

She could feel him moving, even here. She had spent a long time deciding what was the planet, and what was  _ him _ . He was all too palpable in the Force, and yet the heat he put off was not distasteful to her. Not the way she’d expected, not at first. 

He had spent his time journeying across the planet. She did not ask him why, and he did not volunteer that information. However, even now, they could feel each other across the distance, their energy nearly bisecting the planet itself. The birds, and animals, and trees, could not conjure the resistance to divert their energies, and the planet remained as it always had.

Far to the north, the scar of their landing had left its mark on the landscape. However, enough time had passed that the planet had already begun rebuilding itself, covering over the ship with new growth. 

He  _ raged _ with the Dark Side, bathed in it, seethed with it from every pore. She saw it, felt it as she extended herself, and even as she tried to resist, her spirit bent toward it. She did not crave the Dark, she did not seek it, and yet here it was. It was not the thing she wanted thrown back at her: this temptation at her lowest point. And yet her resistance wavered, her own struggles looking more and more useless as she sank into the Force and lost more of herself.

Maul was something else. She wanted to call him ‘inhuman’, though the word did not apply properly to any nonhuman. And yet she pushed on, her body shuddering as her spirit gave up its resistance.

It was so... _ warm _ . That was always the surprising part, these other  _ sensations _ that came with it. There was warmth, and heat, rushing over her as if to soothe old wounds. And yet there were no wounds to soothe, no scars to heal, and she was left instead in a confining heat, enough to stifle her. 

_ Maul _ .

He did not scream, or rage, and yet he remained as present as always, a bright light of power. 

_ Asajj _ .

She found herself there, another node in counterpoint to Maul’s, another different point of light. She began to define herself by her contrasts, identifying her cold to his warmth, her low to his high. Though she did not intend it, he found the edges of her resistance, probing the seam of their focus.

_ Maul _ .

_ Asajj. _

_ Maul. _

_ Asajj. _

_ Maul. Asajj. Maul. Asajj. Maul Asajj Maul Asajj Maul-- _

“Asajj.”

She bared her teeth, facing him over a small campfire. He was still on the night side of the planet, facing the cold much as she was.

“Maul.” She could not keep the haughty tone from her voice. After everything she’d been through…

“What do you want.” He, too, struggled with tone. It surprised her, how he restrained himself. For her sake? 

“I did not aim to disturb you.”

“And yet here you are.” His eyelids fluttered, his body rocking gently. “You’re a slippery one, when you don’t want to be found.”

“Do you  _ want _ to be found, Maul?” She angled her head, feeling the shift in their energies. 

“Do you want to find me?”

“You’re the one who took off. I have no opinion one way or the other.”

“And yet you meditate.”

“I meditate to clear my head.” She snapped, a lip curling. “Do you meditate to try and find me? I haven’t gone far.”

“My motives are none of your concern!” Maul snapped back, his eyes glinting in the firelight. Both of them waited, equilibrium returning once more, and Asajj tried to focus on the sensations once more. Like a ship at sea, rocking gently…

“We could find Sidious.” Maul finally observed, eyes narrowing. “Your former master Dooku is dead. The Sith are a new creation now. You could reshape the galaxy, carve out a portion.”

“I will not join you in a quest for power.” Asajj tried to turn him away, closing her eyes, but again her sensitivities betrayed her. 

“We are more worthy.”

“You were  _ insane _ .”

“Yes! But I overcame that!” Maul leaned forward, bathing in the heat from the fire. “The Nightsisters produced both of us, created us, and the Sith tried to shape us, but we are more than  _ both  _ of those...things. We have learned not to rely on the things that made us. We rely on ourselves.”

“The Jedi have fallen.” Asajj nodded slowly, refusing to be drawn into Maul’s passion. “You felt it as I did. The entire galaxy is being rewritten.”

“And we should be the ones to write it.” Maul nodded, sitting back to mimic her resolution. “Even now, Sidious takes hold of the galaxy’s wheel and turns it to his aims.”

“And you are more deserving?” Asajj scoffed, ignoring the shudder that ran down her spine. “The Jedi failed, and they had thousands of years to practice. The Sith will also fail.”

“There are others.”

“Oh, yes. The Nightsisters were others, were they not.”

“The Nightsisters were small. Limited. The Jedi have fallen, but they have not  _ died _ . Kenobi lives.”

Asajj nodded, unable now to ignore the pain that ached now in her chest. She had been one of them, once. A Jedi. A Nightsister. Never a Sith, the way Maul had been, but she had walked that line. And Kenobi had been...unique.

“And Sidious takes an apprentice.”

“The Sith insist on it.” Maul laughed, a harsh, barking sound. “Even now, the apprentice turns his thoughts back against his master. It is the way of the Sith.”

“And you would continue it.” Asajj stood, ready to break the connection, but Maul stood to mirror her. 

“No. No, reshape it.”

“As every Master has claimed to do before you.”

“You doubt me.”

“I doubt  _ anyone _ who thinks they can change the galaxy. The galaxy does not care whether we live or die. The galaxy continues regardless. The Force itself has only a passing interest in living beings.” Asajj waved a hand, moving around the fire. “I am tired of fighting it. We are safest here, hidden. Alone.”

“You think to sacrifice yourself nobly, to contain me?”

“You were not meant to be here!” Asajj bared her teeth, watching Maul circle the fire in the opposite direction. “I was meant to be alone! Apart! Away from the galaxy!”

“Hiding. Running.  _ Afraid _ .”

“Do you hope to provoke me, Maul? It will take much more than  _ this _ to earn my derision.” Asajj nodded, folding her arms. “You have always had a goal. First Sidious gave you a direction, and then, until now, you retain this. Have you never sought something of your own volition?”

“This  _ is _ my own volition.”

“Driven by another. And what happens if you succeed?”

“The galaxy will understand what it means to access the Force.”

“You will become a teacher? The founder of a temple?” Asajj laughed, pleased to see the fire spark in Maul’s eyes. “In a thousand years, your name would be as worthless as whoever set the first bricks on Coruscant.”

“So the assassin, without a target, has lost the will to live?” Maul lunged forward, treading closer to the fire ring. “Are you so  _ empty  _ that you needed a target to sustain you?”

“You were not meant to be here.” Asajj repeated, scowling.

“There is more to be had than just  _ survival _ , Asajj.”

“I cannot accept that power will make me happy, Maul. Whatever it does for you, I want no part of it.”

“And yet here you stand.”

“The Force brought me here.”

“The Force which you sought! This is the direction it shows you, Asajj! Take it. Seize it.”

“I will not be apprenticed to you, Maul. And I would not trust any allegiance you offered.”

“And so the weak bow to the strong.”

“I have no need to prove myself to you.” Asajj closed her eyes again, finally shutting out the stimuli to return to her own campsite. Without the fire, the world was bleak and unsaturated, a pale imitation of life. Asajj took a deep breath, laying back to feel the chill of the rock beneath her, and tried to think.

+++

The death had been painful. More painful than she’d realized.

She had not been present for the death of Savage Opress. She had considered him separate from her life, a creature of his own design in another section of the galaxy. Maul’s existence was inconvenient, yes, but it did not transform her life. She was not bound to the Nightsisters or the Nightbrothers, and their  _ concerns _ were not her concerns. And yet she’d felt it, lightyears away. The pain, and the rage, had nearly brought her to her knees. Maul was terrifying, the Force drawn to him in the depths of his anguish, and she was part of it now.

She had chosen Savage, and yet...even that choice had not been hers. Talzin had been directing that, too, leading them to some destiny they’d never chosen. The training, and the betrayal, all in service of Talzin’s scheming. And she had the audacity to call herself ‘Mother’! To act as if she was helping them! Talzin was no different from Dooku or Sidious, building herself an army of Force-sensitives to maintain her selfish grip on her corner of the galaxy. 

Asajj wished it could all just  _ stop _ .

And yet she hadn’t been the one caught between it. When the power of Dathomir had finally resisted the Sith, it had been Savage who had been cut down. Maul had felt it, and through him, she had felt it multiplied. She and Maul had trained Savage, had crafted him into a being of skill and power, and now he was gone.

The knowledge of Maul’s blood relation to Savage changed nothing. She had chosen Savage to the best of her abilities, and had been confident in her choice. It was in the moments of isolation that she reflected on that choice, on the processes that had brought her Savage. She had had him for such a little span of time. He had contested her for his  _ brother’s _ sake. Yet he had been willing, compliant, and strong. 

She was not, at her core, a Nightsister. She did not know the details of their ways. Her arrival at the Nightbrother village had been impromptu, and yet the brothers had all known her intention. Her challenge was part of a long-established tradition, a well-known process for the selection of a brother. Asajj had not asked for more information, and yet.

Had he known, at that time? Had he recognized the ritual? There was only one other reason a Nightsister would need to select a Nightbrother, and that was in order to produce a child. The children would be segregated at birth, retained with the Sisters to be trained or sent back to the Brothers to eke out an existence. But Asajj had not known this, was not part of this system, when she had selected Savage. Maul had no knowledge of this, even when he had returned to Dathomir. Both of them had been ripped away from the planet at birth, and were like dying grafts trying to revive the tree.

Asajj tried to sleep, and to forget Dathomir. However, the shift in consciousness slipped her easily into the embrace of the Force, and she tensed to find Maul in that halfway realm between reality and dreaming.

She could not--did not--conceal anything in this place. She had left behind the need for deception and secrecy. However, the pain remained with her, staining her consciousness, and she felt ashamed to come before Maul in this way.

He stared at her, somehow, even with his eyes closed. The silence was palpable in this place between them, and Asajj allowed herself to consider how he felt. What was he feeling? Did he still remember?

The briefest extension of herself revealed that  _ yes _ , he did remember, because the pain was still close to him.

“I have been thinking.” She began, cringing at the sound of her voice. “About Savage.”

He scowled, and she felt some relief that he, too, was unable to conceal his emotions here. “You abandoned him.”

“I know.” It was not true, but her protestations would not matter. It only served to exhaust her. “He is not here for me to make reparations.”

“You used him. Tossed him aside without a thought.” Maul seethed. “Abandoned by his  _ master _ .”

“Perhaps this is always our fate. I was abandoned by my master. You were abandoned by yours.” Asajj nodded, staring at the horizon on his side of the world. He was further east, it seemed: the sun was already rising. “Even the Sisters had their Mother. You met her.”

“Talzin.” Maul acknowledged. The word was inert, for him, meaningless. Asajj bared her teeth.

“Was she so different? Bartering with the lives of her children, making meaningless deals with Sidious and Dooku? I was never a meaningful part of her plans.” Asajj relaxed, identifying that warmth at her core as the anger that had yet to die. 

“Our place was never to be as servants.” Maul confirmed, watching her closely. “Savage needed direction. He needed guidance.”

“I failed him.” Asajj bowed her head, exhaling. “We could have been something...greater.”

“I failed him.” Maul echoed, prompting Asajj to look up again in surprise. “We were so close to greatness, and I allowed him to die.”

“He might have understood. With time, and effort, I could have--we could have become true allies.” To have another being that understood, even just a portion--it would have lessened the weight.

“He  _ loved _ me. He crossed the galaxy to find me.”

“From Talzin’s urging.”

“And yet he did it. He dragged me screaming back to the galaxy’s light, and resurrected me, and protected me. No one has…” Maul restrained himself, turning away. Asajj wanted to shout, to scream, to say something--and yet could she presume that much, with this being she’d only truly faced here? Did it matter?

“He would not have been a Sith.”

“He was  _ perfect _ .” Maul curled in on himself, hissing. “You never saw--”

“I was blind.” Asajj admitted, unable to stop the pain radiating through her awareness. “I could not see what was right in front of me.”

Maul reached out, splaying a hand against the rock, and screamed into the empty air. Asajj could feel him, the dark, cold weight of his grief, and the warm flush of his rage. He could hold both of these at once, nurturing them in his breast, and she could feel the tears in her eyes. In sympathy? Perhaps in envy. Maul allowed the Force, or his own desires, to give him direction.

She craved that. She  _ needed  _ it. And yet she could never allow herself to be subject to another Master again.

“Come back.” She found herself saying, her nails digging into the palm of her hands. “We can repair the ship. Return to the galaxy.”

“I do not need your  _ pity.”  _ Maul hissed again, whipping his head around to stare at her. “You have run away. I will not have a failed assassin pretending--”

“I am not a failed assassin.” If he was trying to antagonize her, it was working. “I am a child of Dathomir, just as you are, and we have the capacity for more than this.”

“I will not be subject to your ploys,  _ witch _ .”

“And I will not be apprentice to your tyranny.” Asajj stood, finding the control she needed to restrain her reactions. “We still might understand each other.”

Maul watched, his neck craning to follow her movements, and finally he displayed a sharp, toothy smile. It was unusual, Asajj noted, for its sheer hunger, and yet he was not currently threatening her. She could become accustomed to that.

“You seek  _ understanding _ .” Maul stood to follow her, his amusement evident. “And you would want me to remain?”

“You hold potential.” Asajj nodded, shuddering with the possibilities open before her. Her choices would always be her own. And she could choose this. “I failed Savage. Perhaps I might...not fail you.”

“I will take no master.”

“And I will take no apprentice.” Asajj confirmed. “Let us destroy the Sith. Destroy the Jedi. They do not deserve their positions.”

“And we take their place?”

“We rewrite the galaxy. The Force is more than one side or the other.”

“There will still be others. More than us two.”

“Then we train them. Teach them. We show them the possibilities.” Asajj nodded again, pleased with the way the future now  _ glowed _ before her. Maul may still hold his rage, yes. But that was appropriate. It gave him purpose. She would not steal his purpose, not borrow it for herself, but she could recognize it. And if Maul would allow it, she could mirror his aims. 

Even if they failed, at least she would have failed in the pursuit of something worthwhile. 


End file.
